Book Covers
by WizardsGirl
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb knew bullies, and he also knew EXACTLY how to get rid of them. The things he did because of Newton... BAMF!Hermann because.


**A/N:** Because I ain't got no reason to NOT write this at the moment.

Enjoy!

 **Book Covers**

Hermann made a point to inhale slow and steady through his nose as he tapped his fingers on his cane's head as he was forced to wait in the horrifically _gaudy_ room as Newton did Lord only knows _wait_ utterly _imbecilic_ deed with his pet gangster in another room. He had told the younger man that he would come by to pick him up from his "date" at exactly eight-thirty and it was now eight-fifty-two.

His fingers tapped a steady beat to the calculations he idly used to pass the time, and so that he could ignore the increasingly rude snickers coming from one of the few henchmen _not_ draped in frankly ridiculous red or gold. There were three of them, all of Chinese ethnicity, all baring tattoos and piercings and get-ups that spoke of street-running and barbaric practices, and all three giving off the _exact_ same vibes the bullies back in school had, which, to put it frankly, _pissed him off_.

Hermann knew bullies. He was a genius mathematician, and his Father was _far_ from meek (Or humble or kind or emotional or, really, anything of any noteworthy notice. As Newton often announced, loudly and to any who would listen, Lars Gottlieb was a "Grade-A Douchebag of Massive Dick Proportions". Despite disliking the crude language, Hermann had never otherwise complained about _that_ particular description.). While he had never been able to do much about his Father, that didn't mean his school-year Bullies didn't learn _not_ to bother him and, as these were nothing more than pathetic _thugs_ , he felt no need to hold back when they approached him, circling him and puffing up like disgusting plebeians.

 _"Eh, whatta we got here, boys?"_ one, this one wearing a black cap and a trashy gold medallion with a large red zircon on the front. _"A lil' cripple here ta beg scraps, huh? Gonna pay for protection for your worthless self, Cripple?"_ he sneered, his friends laughing mockingly, and, well, even Newton knew that Hermann's temper was all but hair-trigger.

"Excuse me," He but out with an icy coldness to his tone and face, sending the, honestly rather intimidating, bald woman who started over a sharp look. She paused, cocking her head to the side, and then smirked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. Good. Hermann didn't want her to interfere.

 _"Yeah? Maybe we won't excuse you, Cripple,"_ one of the as-yet silent thugs sneered, reaching out to shove him, and, well, Hermann hadn't _always_ been known as someone who only used words in battle (He had three older brothers, after all, all of which where far larger and were rude and rather mean as children, as children often were.).

He was moving, speed and firmly calculated force and angles. His cane is lashing out as he leans on his good leg, stabbing harshly into the thug's diaphragm, sending him to the ground with a wide-eyed, choked wheeze, but Hermann is already moving again, the head of his cane broke the other thug's nose, blood spurting out distastefully before he's forced to duck as the thug in the hat threw a badly executed punch.

"Pathetic," Hermann sneered coldly as he neatly, with three simply calculated moves, dislocated the man's wrist, broke _his_ nose, and sent him to his knees with a nasty cane-strike to the groin, and then he's lashing, without looking, out at the thug who'd only gotten a broken nose, throat-chopping him with the cane-head and then twisting it around to yank his ankle out from under him, sending him to his back with a choked wheeze and watery eyes.

And then Hermann was re-settling his weight, tapping his cane smartly on the ground as he dispassionately glared down at the three wheezing, groaning thugs.

"You are pathetic worms," he told them with the very same frigidly scathing tone he'd used on more than one disgusting imbecile who had questioned his equations. "You looked at me and saw nothing more than a weak little cripple, but look at you now." He tilted his head, glaring judgmentally down at the 'leader' as he clutched at his groin with his uninjured arm, and used his cane to lift the thugs chin, meeting pained, furious eyes. "Who needs protection now, hmm?" He asked softly, and, when the man moved to no doubt spit something vulgar, Hermann took a deliberate step forward, leaning over his cane so that he loomed over the downed man, eyes flinty. The thug shut his mouth with a click.

"What is your name, boy," he stated, not _asked_ but stated, an order to answer, but the other man glared at him, so, with a sharp move, his weight settled heavy on his cane and his good foot lashed out, sharply kicking the man's dislocated wrist, earning a sharp cry, but Hermann, already re-settled, was already moving, grabbing the man by his ridiculous jewelry and yanking him up like a collared dog. He pulled their faces close.

"Well, boy?" He asked calmly, coldly; he was gratified to see the man swallow and look away, fear edging the pain in his face.

 _"Ru Zhang,"_ he muttered; Hermann tightened his hand ever-so-slightly. _"Sir."_

"Ru," he mused aloud, leaning back but not releasing his grip, forcing the other man to rise up on his knees of choke. "That means 'learner', correct?" Ru's mouth tightened nervously, but he nodded; a cold smile curled the scientists mouth. "Let's see how well you follow that namesake, shall we?"

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

It was nearly ten o'clock when Newton came scrambling into the room, clothes mussed and hair sweat-matted, cheeks flushed and bite marks all up and down his neck. He skidded to a stop in the doorway, gaping at the scene before him as Hannibal saunters behind him and lets out a low whistle.

"Well, ain't that a surprising sight," the mobster mused easily, and Newton could only nod weakly.

Settled in one of the least gaudy chairs he could find, Hermann was delicately sipping tea from a fine china cup, the bald woman (A lovely woman, truly, named Yun, who, while not able to understand mathematical equation, was more than able to be a decent challenge at _Go_.) sipping from her own cup across from him in another chair. Between them, acting as their table, with the sweaty, trembling, and still-bloody form of Ru Zhang. To the side, sitting nervously, were his two compatriots, one holding a carefully balanced tray with the matching tea pot to the cups they were using, and, the other was acting as a foot stool, Hermann's bad leg digging its heel into his thighs, but the man looked honestly too afraid to even shift his weight.

"Hermann?" Newton called uncertainly, and the three thugs flinched slightly as the German stiffen.

"Newton," he said in that stiff, coldly polite tone that had Newton wincing cause, yeah, Hermann was pissed. "Do you know, exactly, what time it is?"

"Erm..." He glanced back and grabbed Hannibal's wrist to check his massive gold Rolex. "Nine-fifty-three?" He offered uncertainly; Hermann turned his head slowly, so that his cold, pinched expression could be seen from the side, eyes flinty but there was something... satisfied in that stare as the thug playing tea-holder actually _whimpered_.

"And what time, precisely, did I state I would pick you up?" he asked frigidly; Newton shifted, flushing.

"Eight-thirty," he muttered, because, damn it, that was that Headmaster-voice he got that never ceased to make the Biologist feel guilty.

"One hour and twenty-three minutes, Newton," Hermann stated coldly, and, yeah, that was The Headmaster Voice.

"My fault, Doc," Hannibal told him easily, curling one massive paw to cup around Newton's nape, and the flush darkened as Hermann sent the gangster a withering glare that made Hannibal's smug grin widen.

"I have no doubt, you _ingrate_ ," he hissed icily, and then he was moving again, setting his tea cup down on the froze Thug who was acting as a table between himself and Yun, cruelly setting it on Ru's bowed head. The Thug stilled his shaking muscles, locking his jaw as he did his utmost to _not_ destabilize the drink.

"Well, Madame Yun," the German stated, pulling his leg off of the unnamed Foot rest, who let out an immediate shaky breath of relief, only to choke on it under Hermann's sharp, side-ways glare, before he deliberately refocused on the _smiling_ bald woman, and offered her a close-lipped smile of his own, more of a quirk of the lips than anything. "I thoroughly enjoyed our time together, and I trust you shall take over in my stead in keeping these children in line, hmm?" Yun's smile grew fangs; Tea Holder whimpered audibly.

"Of course, Doctor Gottlieb," she agreed easily. "I look forward to seeing you again. Perhaps we could have another game of Go, hmm? You are a very challenging competitor." The smile Hermann had warmed an edge, quirking more obviously as he inclined his head, before he turned sharply and started walking towards the door. He paused though and glanced over his shoulder.

"Do remember your lessons, Mister Zhang," he stated calmly; the Table stiffened further, eyes going wide at being addressed. "I'd hate to have to return and discover you had been... _Recalcitrant_ , hmm?" Yun shifted one of her deceptively small feet, and Ru whined, high in his throat as it dug cruelly into his dislocated wrist.

The tea cup shifted dangerously.

 _"Y-yes, sir,"_ he choked out; Hermann nodded sharply, and stalked forward, spine straight and shoulders stiff, reaching out and curling tight fingers around one of the gaping Newton's wrists.

"Come, Newton," he ordered, sending a scathing glare at Hannibal, who only laughed at him. "And close your mouth," he snapped sharply; Newton did, before flailing his free hand even as he followed after his friend.

" _Dude_ what did you _do_?!" He yelped; Hermann huffed as the door swung shut behind them, Hannibal watching it close on them.

"Young Mister Zhang had a misconception about myself, earlier, while I was _waiting for you_ ," the mobster heard, turning his eyes on the tableu before him again. "I simply had to... _emphasize_ the various reasons he was wrong. Nothing more." And left it at that.

And, if the next time Hermann came to pick up Newton, the lovely Yun was waiting with their personal, living furniture and a game of _Go_ as well as fresh, hot tea, well.

No one would mention it aloud.

 **A/N:** I just wanted to get this idea of the totally bad-assness of Hermann Gottlieb out of the way so enjoy! ^-^


End file.
